thanksgiving weather


Turkeys will thaw in the morning, then warm in the oven to an afternoon high near 165F. The kitchen will turn hot and humid, and if you bother the cook, be ready for a severe squall or cold shoulder.

During the late afternoon and evening, the cold front of a knife will slice through the turkey, causing an accumulation of one to two inches on plates. Mashed potatoes will drift across one side while cranberry sauce creates slippery spots on the other. Please pass the gravy.

A weight watch and indigestion warning have been issued for the entire area, with increased stuffiness around the beltway. During the evening, the turkey will diminish and taper off to leftovers, dropping to a low of 34F in the refrigerator.

Looking ahead to Friday and Saturday, high pressure to eat sandwiches will be established. Flurries of leftovers can be expected both days with a 50 percent chance of scattered soup late in the day. We expect a warming trend where soup develops. By early next week, eating pressure will be low as the only wish left will be the bone.


What did the mother turkey say to her disobedient children?
If your father could see you now, he’d turn over in his gravy!

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the night before thanksgiving…


Tis the night before Thanksgiving and all through our house
No turkey is baking; I feel like a louse,
For I am all nestled, so snug in my bed;
I’m not gettin’ up and I’m not bakin’ bread.
No pies in my oven, no cranberry sauce
Cuz I give the orders, and I am the boss.
When out in the kitchen, there arose such a clatter
I almost got up to see what was the matter.
As I drew in my head and was tossing around
To the bed came my husband, he grimaced, he frowned.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He scared me to death and I thought, “Here he goes!”
He spoke not a word as he threw back my quilt
And the look that he gave was intended to wilt.
So up to the ceiling my pillows he threw
I knew I had had it, his face had turned blue.
“You prancer, you dodger, you’re lazy, you vixen
Out yonder in kitchen, Thanksgiving you’re fixin.”
But he heard me explain, with my face in a pout:
“I’m just plain too tired and we’re eating out!”


Which side of the turkey has the most feathers?
The outside.

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thank you….



Dear God:


I want to thank You for what you have already done.


I am not going to wait until I see results or receive rewards, I am thanking you right now.


I am not going to wait until I feel better or things look better, I am thanking you right now.


I am not going to wait until people say they are sorry or until they stop talking about me, I am thanking you right now.


I am not going to wait until the pain in my body disappears, I am thanking you right now.


I am not going to wait until my financial situation improves, I am going to thank you right now.


I am not going to wait until the children are asleep and the house is quiet,


I am going to thank you right now.


I am not going to wait until I get promoted at work or until I get the job,


I am going to thank you right now.


I am not going to wait until I understand every experience in my life that has caused me pain or grief,


I am going to thank you right now.


I am not going to wait until the journey gets easier or the challenges are removed.


I am thanking you right now.


I am thanking you because I am alive.


I am thanking you because I made it through the day’s difficulties.


I am thanking you because I have walked around the obstacles.


I am thanking you because I have the ability and the opportunity to do more and do better.


I’m thanking you because Father, you haven’t given up on me.


— Author Unknown

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Resolutions for Fall and Autumn

How about FALL Resolutions?

(After 10 1/2 months of not keeping the new year’s ones)


Give up complaining . . . focus on gratitude.

Give up pessimism . . . become an optimist.

Give up harsh judgments . . . think kind thoughts.

Give up worry . . . trust divine providence.

Give up discouragement . . . be full of hope.

Give up bitterness . . . turn to forgiveness.

Give up hatred . . . return good for evil.

Give up negativism . . . be positive.

Give up anger . . . practice patience.

Give up pettiness . . . put on maturity.

Give up gloom. . . enjoy the beauty that is all around you.

Give up jealousy . . . pray for trust.

Give up gossiping . . . control your tongue.

Give up sin. . . . turn to virtue.


Thought for the Day:

All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to



— Author Unknown

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The Donkey and the carrot….

out of more than 800 post the number 1 requested post by far the most popular ever is “the donkey and the carrot…”  so I am repeating it for those that do not know about it or do not sheach for it.—roger


The Donkey and the carrot …

Filipo really enjoyed helping his
father in the flour mill. He led the
donkey up to the millstone, tied it
securely, fixed over its head a stick,
at the end of which he suspended
the proverbial carrot.

After that, he only had to give
the donkey a couple of shoves to start
it moving.

From morning to evening the animal
circled slowly following the carrot,
while Filipo daydreamed, leaning up
against bags of flour. His father
Ernesto carried the sheaves of corn
to the barn and spent time checking
the wheels of the huge mill.

The young boy’s donkey was very reliable,
and day after day it plodded fruitlessly
after the carrot that it would never get.

One evening when the exhausted donkey
had finished its last circle and Filipo
was helping his father arrange the bags
of flour, he said thoughtfully:

“Look at this foolish donkey, going
around and around day in and day out in
the heat, without food or drink, trying
to reach a carrot that it has no hope
of getting.

I will never be like that.”

Filipo’s father dropped his last sack,
put his hands on his hips and eyed his son,

“Do you think we are so different
from the donkey? We work equally hard
from morning until night.  Then we return
home, eat some food and go to bed where
we dream that with a little luck,
life will be a little easier tomorrow;
that fortune will smile on us and that
we won’t have to work anymore.

But in the morning with our aching backs
and our tired hands, we understand just
how far away the carrot is, and just how
long it will be before we reach it.”

………… ……… ……… ……… …

Is our society any different from the
theme of this short story? We chase success
relentlessly, to fulfil our desires for
wealth and comfort.

The carrot?

The wonderful advertisements, the fabulous
shop windows and the salesmen encouraging
us to consume.

Wouldn’t it be worth minimizing our
ambitions and desires so that we could
have the possibility of satisfying them
– and actually GET the carrot?

………… ……… ……… ……… …

“Inner satisfaction is a truth of which we
could be more hopeful”.

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the TOP 10 signs that you may not be reading the Bible enough


10) The preacher announces the sermon is from Genesis . . .  and you check the table of contents.

9) You think Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob may have had a few hit songs during the 60s.

8) You open to the Gospel of Luke and a WWII Savings Bond falls out.

7) Your favorite Old Testament patriarch is Hercules.

6) A small family of woodchucks has taken up residence in the Psalms of your Bible.

5) You become frustrated because Charlton Heston isn’t listed in either the Concordance or the Table of Contents.

4) Catching the kids reading the Song of Solomon, you demand: “Who gave you this stuff?”

3) You think the minor prophets worked in the quarries.

2) You keep falling for it every time when the pastor tells you to turn to First Condominiums.

1) The kids keep asking too many questions about your usual bedtime story: “Jonah, the Shepherd Boy, and His Ark of Many Colors.”

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a Reading of Psalm 23 [a short story]


There once was a Shakespearean actor who was known everywhere for his one-man shows of readings and recitations from the classics. He would always end his performance with a reading of Psalm 23.


Each night, without exception, as the actor began his recitation “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want”… the crowd would listen attentively. And then, at the conclusion of the psalm, they would rise in thunderous applause in appreciation of the actor’s incredible ability to bring the verse to life.


But one night, just before the actor was to offer his customary recital of Psalm 23, a young man from the audience spoke up. “Sir, do you mind if tonight I recite Psalm 23”?


The actor was quite taken aback by this unusual request, but he allowed the young man to come forward and stand front and center on the stage to recite the Psalm, knowing that the ability of this unskilled youth would be no match for his own talent.


With a soft voice, the young man began to recite the words of the Psalm. When he was finished, there was no applause. There was no standing ovation as on other nights. All that could be heard was the sound of weeping. The audience had been so moved by the young man’s recitation that every eye was full of tears.


Amazed by what he had heard, the actor said to the youth, “I don’t understand. I have been performing Psalm 23 for years. I have a lifetime of experience and training, but I have never been able to move an audience as you have tonight. Tell me, what is your secret?”


The young man quietly replied, “Well sir, you know the Psalm. I know the Shepherd.”


— Author Unknown

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money and power a thought…..

Money and power don’t spoil a character; they only bring it to light.

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a Marble story [a short story]


I live in the south and was at the corner grocery store buying some potatoes. I noticed a small boy, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.

Pondering the peas, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller, the store owner, and the ragged boy next to me.

“Hello Barry, how are you today?”

“H’lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Them peas sure look good!”

“They are good, Barry. How’s your Ma?”

“Fine. Gittin’ stronger alla’ time.”

“Good. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, Sir…jus’ admirin’ them peas.”

“Would you like to take some home?” asked Mr. Miller.

“No, Sir. Got nuthin’ to pay for ’em with.”

“Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?”

“All I got’s my prize marble here.”

“Is that right? Let me see it” said Miller.

“Here ’tis. She’s a dandy.”

“I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?” the store owner asked.

“Not zackley but almost.”

“Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble,” Mr. Miller told the boy.

“Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.”

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.

With a smile she said, “There are two other boys like him in our community. All three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.”

“When they come back with their red marbles – and they always do – he decides he doesn’t like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.”

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Years went by, each more rapid than the previous one, until I recently had occasion to visit some old friends in my hometown. While I was there, I learned that Mr. Miller had died and they were having his visitation that evening. Knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we got in line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two had nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts…all were very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband’s casket.

Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband’s bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

“Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim ‘traded’ them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size, they came to pay their debt.”

“We’ve never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,” she confided, “but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in the world.”

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely-shined red marbles.

The moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our deeds.

[forwarded by Adon Brownell]

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Some Talk the Talk, but may Stumble Walking the Walk…..


A man was being tailgated by a stressed-out woman on a busy boulevard.
Suddenly, the light turned yellow, just in front of him. He did the right
thing, stopping at the crosswalk, even though he could have beaten the red
light by accelerating through the intersection.

The tailgating woman hit the roof, and the horn, screaming in frustration as
she missed her chance to get through the intersection with him. As she was
still in mid-rant, she heard a tap on her window and looked up into the face
of a very serious police officer.

The officer ordered her to exit her car with her hands up. He took her to
the police station where she was searched, fingerprinted, photographed, and
placed in a cell.

After a couple of hours, a policeman approached the cell and opened the
door. She was escorted back to the booking desk where the arresting officer
was waiting with her personal effects.

He said, “I’m very sorry for this mistake. You see, I pulled up behind your
car while you were blowing your horn, flipping the guy off in front of you,
and cussing a blue streak at him. I noticed the ‘What Would Jesus Do”
bumper sticker, the ‘Follow Me to Sunday School’ bumper sticker and the
chrome-plated fish emblem on the trunk. Naturally, I assumed you had stolen
the car.”

— Author Unknown

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